Practical Engagements
by Sophie Rae
Summary: Colonel Fitzwilliam shares a story about Darcy's past with Elizabeth, just hours before his cousin proposes. This single breach in confidence changes the futures for all three involved. It's a story about falling in love, falling out of love, and sometimes just falling. Sample.


_Sample:_

_This variation begins at Rosings, but veers off course when Elizabeth decides to accept Darcy's proposal, thanks in large part to the unwitting influence of Colonel Fitzwilliam. This story is as much about Elizabeth and Darcy's torturous road to love, as it is about Colonel Fitzwilliam's parallel, purgative journey. The perspective is omniscient, meandering amongst the three main characters' view points, and the voice is reminiscent of, though by no means replicable, to Austen's._

_Chapter One: Truth and Consequences_

Elizabeth Bennet rambled through the teeming hedgerows of Rosings Park, her enjoyment in the bloom of spring tempered by thoughts of her sister Jane's most recent letter. The tone of the letter bothered Elizabeth, more than the topics. Heavy words had weighted it down, proving her sister had not written in high spirits.

Jane was still ensconced in London, caring for her younger cousins, conversing with her favorite aunt, and carrying on in the same subdued manner she always did, but something light and cheery had been missing from her descriptions and anecdotes. And Elizabeth thought she knew the reason for the lack of cheer, that thing that was only hinted at in the empty spaces between the words—the persistent absence of Mr. Charles Bingley in her life. Elizabeth worried her sister would never overcome her feelings for that man, leaving Jane's tender heart wilted forever.

As she meandered, contemplating the inanities and cruelties of life, Elizabeth heard swift footfalls from behind. During her last few walks in the park she had unexpectedly met with Mr. Darcy. On this particular day, she hoped that the quickening approach was not him. In her present mood, his presence would be doubly odious since she suspected he had played a small part in separating Jane from Mr. Bingley. Harried, she hastened her stride. The pursuer called out her name and instantly ended her worries.

"I did not know you ever walked this way before," Elizabeth said as Colonel Fitzwilliam came up beside her.

With a laugh he explained that he was making his annual tour of the park. He offered her his arm and asked if he might accompany her, as he would enjoy the scenery much better with her as a constant accessory to it. Tepidly Elizabeth accepted his arm, deciding to turn around and claim she was just about to head back to the parsonage. For a few minutes the pair talked pleasantly of everything and nothing. Elizabeth's mind continued to stray. She hardly heard the colonel's melodious regaling of his adventures at Rosings as a young boy, and with the errant, empathic wonderings foremost on her mind, actually cut him off with an abrupt question.

"Do you certainly leave Kent on Saturday colonel? And your cousin, too, I presume?"

"Yes—that is unless Darcy puts it off again," he replied, not a whisper of reproach for her interruption in his voice. "I am entirely dependent on him. He arranges things just as he pleases, and I am pleased to be at his disposal."

"I do not think I know of man who so enjoys pleasing himself by displeasing others, or at least, by doing just as he pleases without regard for what his dependents think."

"He likes to have his own way, but so do we all. It is only that he has better means of having it than many others. Because he is rich, and many others are poor. I speak feelingly. A younger son, you know, must be inured to self-denial and dependence."

"In my opinion, the younger son of an Earl, can know very little of either. Now, seriously, what have you ever known of self-denial and dependence? When have you ever been prevented by want of money from going wherever you chose, or procuring anything you had a fancy for?"

"These are penetrating questions—and perhaps I do not have many hardships of that nature. But, if you had asked when a lack of money had prevented me from going with _whomever_ I chose or procuring the hand of someone I had a fancy for, I could answer very directly on that account." The colonel's levity lessened and he cast Elizabeth a meaningful look, which brought a blush to her cheeks. "Younger sons cannot marry where they like."

The colonel stared at her for a moment, a sudden hush in the air, before the he sighed and began walking again. His voice danced when he spoke.

"Darcy will not have to choose between love and money, though. He is fortune's son in that regard. In fact, he has a good friend who often calls him just that. I think to bother my cousin."

Elizabeth smirked. "Who is this friend?"

"His name is Bingley—you may know him, actually. He spent the summer with Darcy, and I believe he purchased a manor not far from where you hail."

"Yes, I do no know him. His home is not three miles from mine."

"Really? I had no idea you were neighbors with him, or that Darcy had been your neighbor as well. Do you like Mr. Bingley?"

"Very much."

"Yes, he is easy to like. And he easily likes. He is a great and needed friend to Darcy."

"Yes," said Elizabeth drily. "Mr. Darcy is uncommonly kind to Mr. Bingley and takes a prodigious good deal of care of him."

"Care of him—yes, I really believe Darcy does take care of him. From something he told me in our journey hither, I have reason to think Bingley very much indebted to Darcy. But, I am only supposing it to be Bingley, as he is the sort to get into this kind of scrape. Of course it is all conjecture."

"What is all conjecture?"

"It is a circumstance Darcy would wish not to be generally known, because if it were to get round to the lady's family it would be unpleasant."

"You may rest assured of my discretion."

"And remember, it is only a supposition. All Darcy told me is that he congratulates himself on recently saving a friend from the inconveniences of a most imprudent marriage, without mentioning names or particulars. And as Bingley is as amiable as he is impulsive, and as the two spent almost the entirety of the summer together, I think my conjecture is very likely the truth."

Elizabeth's interest and ire were immediately peaked as thoughts of Jane's despair flooded back into her mind. "Did Mr. Darcy give you his reasons for this interference?"

"No, only that there were some very strong objections against the lady."

"What arts did he use to separate them?"

"He did not talk of his arts, surely," Colonel Fitzwilliam teased, noticing the fresh burst of color on her cheeks, mystified by its appearance. "He only told me what I have now told you."

Elizabeth made no answer to this, and walked on, her heart swelling and her skin reddening. The colonel watched her with unabashed concern—and admiration. After a few moments of open wonder he could not refrain from asking her what made her so thoughtful, successfully silencing the question about why her complexion glowed so temptingly.

"I am thinking of what you told me. Your cousin's conduct does not suit my feelings. Who was he to be the judge?"

"You believe his interference was officious?"

"I do not see what right Mr. Darcy had to decide on the properness of his friend's inclination, or why on his judgment alone, he was to determine and direct in what manner his friend was to be happy."

"Perhaps not, but as we discussed, Darcy does as he pleases, does he not? And, there is another matter, wherein he made it his business to intercede after a very imprudent marriage had taken place. I think he feels it his duty to curtail any match that might end in such a way as the one he had to save after the nuptials had already occurred."

This recital gave Elizabeth's quiet wrath an unexpected pause; a reprieve of curiosity and stirring of fantastical, unlikely stories. Caught up in her runaway conjectures, she had no idea how animatedly her thoughts were flying over her face, how soft and hard her expression was, how brightly her eyes glowed, but Colonel Fitzwilliam did. He observed her, was transfixed by the becoming passion enhancing her features, and was compelled to speak.

"Miss Bennet, I feel I am bound to explain, and I must again request your promise of secrecy on this point, most especially as it involves a close acquaintance of Miss Darcy's."

"Miss Darcy?"

"The very same one. I shall not divulge her friend's name, but this certain lady was in fact a gentlewoman's daughter, raised with the expectation of a good marriage and possessing a solid dowry. As fate would have it, however, her father's estate was entailed away from the female line and she was, alas, an only child. Such is life. Unfortunately, not many years ago, her mother and father died suddenly of an unknown illness. The heir apparent of her father's home, still single, offered her his hand. The lady refused, for I think she must have felt some resentment towards the gentleman. He was so offended, however, that he forced her to leave her childhood home immediately, only the day after her parent's internment."

Elizabeth's breath caught and the colonel asked if she wanted him to change the topic.

"That is for you to decide," she said, banishing the strange fear which had gripped her heart. "But I am not alarmed by anything you have said."

He sighed and slowly continued, ""Very well. This young lady moved from acquaintance to acquaintance, and not long after, met a man with whom she fell in love. They eloped because her friends either said nothing or said too much in way of opposition. In a very short time, the man had drained her of her fortune and left her. She was alone, without money, and very soon with a child. This is how, I have gathered, Darcy found her. He had been acquainted with her for many years prior, and chance brought her to his attention. Sadly, she and the child's living conditions were such that the babe did not survive. My cousin was able to procure for her a position as a lady's companion, and that is her occupation at present."

Fitzwilliam finished and discovered that they were already at the parsonage's gate. He suddenly wanted to get away, and quickly entreating her once more for her silence, took his leave.

As he turned into the lane, he cast a backward glance at Elizabeth. She was not looking at him and he studied her bowed head, her slender shoulders, and pretty figure. He was uncertain why he had felt so strongly about divulging his cousin's private actions before a relatively unknown acquaintance, but there was something in her manner and face that had made him trust her. His admiration for her only accentuated his desire to be forthcoming, even confiding. Disappointed, he cursed those circumstances which hindered him from engaging her affection in a serious way. If only she had fifty thousand pounds—or in truth, with her charms, he would take her for far less than such a sum. Indeed, his commission as an officer was some allowance, though nothing extravagant. Still, her dearth of a dowry was no trifling matter for one so accustomed to a certain expectation of comfort.

Kicking a pebble, he sped up his pace. He had done his honor-bound duty to Miss Bennet by laying open his intentions, or rather, the lack thereof. Surely, there must be an heiress with at least half the wit and charm as Elizabeth Bennet. With his usual optimism, he entertained himself all through the walk back to Rosings, and even into the late afternoon, with fantasies of wealthy women who had familiar eyes and lively ways.

So content were Fitzwilliam's musings that he barely noticed Darcy's agitated behavior, until that gentleman suddenly stood up just as their Hunsford guests were entering the drawing room. Amused, the colonel watched his cousin stalk over to Mrs. Collins and converse with the parson's wife before any of the other guests had crossed the threshold. He raised his brow as Darcy turned toward their aunt and claimed that urgent (and clearly fictitious) business called him away.

Fitzwilliam only had to wonder at the abrupt departure for the short length of time it took for the rest of the visitors to collect in the room. He settled in next to the morose looking Mrs. Jenkins, who fanned his ever morose cousin Anne, the sunlight filtering warmly through the nearby window. Quietly chuckling to himself, he wondered if he might abandon this gathering as well and join Darcy—whom he assumed had fled to the far corners of the upstairs bedrooms to take a nap. Staring quizzically at the strange contortions of Mr. Collins' torso as he bowed to Lady Catherine, the colonel did not see the resolute figure of Darcy marching down the front steps.


End file.
